


Magnetic Pull

by clearinghouse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drug Use, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Merman Biology, Merman John, Prince Sherlock, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8581321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearinghouse/pseuds/clearinghouse
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is a bored and lonely prince. Nothing ever captures his interest, until one day his life is saved by a magical sea creature with blond hair who does not speak.





	

He had done it often before, so this wasn’t the first time that the prince went to sit by the lake to simply escape the frustrations of the rigid life he had been born into. This surely would not be the last time he came here, either. Sherlock only wanted to get away from all the boredom and disappointment, but above all other things, boredom was the most inescapable.

Sherlock wondered where the water would take him if he swam in and simply floated. The sand beneath him was cool to the touch, and so he lied down with his limbs spread lazily and gazed upward into the cloudy sky. There was no one else here at this time of the year. It was only him. Fundamentally, that wouldn’t ever change, would it? Anyone else he ever met would either be an intolerably self-righteous noble-born with ears as closed as his heart, or someone who wanted money and would treat Sherlock like a superior. 

He was yet again high on some drug right now—he thought he remembered taking opium earlier, but his memory was a bit compromised at the moment—and still he was bored. For now the water merely licked his feet, but the tide would rise soon. In his altered state, he wondered, would it take him to some other place, where he could be someone else? Could the water strip him of his awful rank and reclusive nature, and make him into someone who could devote himself to his work, or to his family, or to anything?

Away from the confusion of a distant society where the prince hadn’t yet found his place in life, and not thinking as clearly as he otherwise might, Sherlock thought it prudent to ask that heaven grant him a revelation, and reveal to him what it was that he was meant to do, or where he was supposed to go. 

“But don’t tell me heaven,” he murmured, “for I can think of nothing more boring than being so content.”

**

Sherlock felt the water all around him. It was like a trance, or a dream, watching himself be overtaken by the tide, but it was as if it were happening to someone else. He was distant from his body, far removed from where he was.

Something suddenly recalled his attention, though. The prince opened weary eyes to see as he breathed in air that he couldn’t possibly have breathed, and saw a man submerged in the water with him, looking him over in concern. The man was blond and beautiful, like a mythical creature. 

Sherlock was fascinated by this person.

The man lifted him off the sandy shore with an easy strength, and held Sherlock, infusing the prince with life. Sherlock felt like a baby being rocked to a restful sleep, and it was tender and heartwarming like nothing else had ever been before in his life. He didn’t know this man, but he never wanted to be parted from him. 

**

When he reflected with a clear mind, it was obvious to Sherlock that that creature had saved Sherlock’s life that day. It was also obvious that the blond man was some kind of miracle of nature, on account of the somewhat magical healing ability that the man had demonstrated in Sherlock’s time of weakness. This didn’t bother Sherlock at all, however. He certainly didn’t tell anyone about his new secret friend.

For the next several months, whenever he could, Sherlock would escape to the lake to find the man who saved him. Unfortunately, the creature was incredibly shy, so Sherlock would take a boat from the pier and row out into the deep water. It was quite a workout, but Sherlock didn’t mind, because the beautiful—and possibly naked, Sherlock couldn’t tell—man would surface and hold onto the edge of the boat while Sherlock talked to him. The man didn't speak in return, but his facial expressions covered the gamut of emotions, and he was big on nodding and gesturing with his hands. Sherlock deduced that the man understood Sherlock’s language to a limited extent, but that limitation didn’t matter at all. The man still cared so much about what Sherlock had to say.

There were a couple of times when the man didn’t appear, but that didn’t matter, either. Sherlock was helplessly drawn to the creature. He couldn’t stay away.

Before long, Sherlock was reconsidering his claim of contentment being too boring.

“I need a name for you. Mind if I call you John?” Sherlock asked the man once. The man smiled rather blankly, so the prince tried with a point of the finger. “Name, John?” 

The man laughed with understanding. He pointed back at Sherlock, mirroring Sherlock’s gesture.

“My name?” Sherlock was puzzled. “Haven’t I told you already? How rude of me. It’s Sherlock.” He directed at his own chest. “Sherlock.”

His friend mouthed the name silently in wonder.

“That’s right,” the prince stated, not sure how much John understood but not being deterred in the least. “It’s absurd, but the name means bright hair, even though I have dark hair. I’ve heard that bright hair is supposed to be a metaphor for a bright mind.”

John tilted his head curiously.

The royal-born recluse sighed fondly. “Sherlock. It means, bright hair. Like yours.” With thoughtless affection, he reached out and touched the blond, wet hair of the strange man beside his boat.

John’s blue eyes widened, and shuddered slightly.

Sherlock froze in alarm. “Oh, did I—?”

The man pulled away, further back in the water. He wore a helplessly lost expression, one he’d never had before.

Distressed, Sherlock stood in the boat and reached out his hand, palm out. “Wait! Forgive me, I didn’t mean to do that! I won’t transgress like that again. I beg of you, don’t go!”

Poor John didn’t know what to do. He hesitated.

Wishing to put the creature at ease, Sherlock worked to recover himself. He slowly sat back down. “Come back?” He waited with bated breath, desperate to keep John at his side.

Oh, what great luck was smiling down today, because the man did return, albeit apprehensively. An inexplicable nervousness was exuding from him in large waves.

“What is it?” Sherlock’s heart couldn’t take much more of this. “What can I do for you?”

After a moment or two, John pointed at Sherlock’s hair. His fingers imitated the way Sherlock’s had caressed John’s hair.

That was all? The prince laughed with relief. “Ah, I see.” He bent down, with his head over the side of the boat. “Of course, how selfish of me. Here, you can feel mine, as well.”

John gently touched dark hair, testing it and curling it with curiosity. Then, he pulled Sherlock’s head further down and kindly kissed a pale forehead.

It was Sherlock’s turn to be astounded. The pure-hearted love in that caring kiss was overwhelming. It made him feel needed. He longed to feel more of those kisses. He wanted to belong to John in every possible way, and to be in John’s arms one more time. “John?”

The other man, for his part, was terribly anxious, and looking around. He pointed at the glowing ball in the sky.

“The sun? Yes?”

The point followed an arc along the sun’s future path, down to the horizon.

“Dusk?”

John nodded fervently, and pointed down, to the water beneath Sherlock’s craft.

“Here, at dusk?” Sherlock could have bounced. He was driven into overdrive with hope. “Y-You want me to return at dusk?”

Apparently frightened but also glad, John nodded. He gestured to himself and to distant water, a signal that he had to leave for now.

“I…” What could Sherlock say to John’s request? That he would look forward to tonight with the greatest anticipation, and in the meantime he would miss John so deeply that it would cut to his very soul and send him pacing insanely about the halls of his castle? He didn’t know what to expect for tonight, but he wanted so badly to feel close to this otherworldly creature again. “I understand.”

**

It was dusk when John saw Sherlock hurrying on his wooden boat to the middle of the lake. Though John knew that the human see less of the water at this time of day, still Sherlock rowed without hesitation. The breeze and water were warm, making the trip easier, but Sherlock’s determination was still impressive to John. It made him admire Sherlock even more than he already did.

John was so happy to have finally met Sherlock. He used to merely watch him from the lake, but now that Sherlock knew of his existence, it thrilled John to hear the charming human talk to him. Sherlock cared so much about him, and was gentle and patient with him. He was the one land creature that John wasn’t suspicious of.

“John?” Sherlock called as he worked his craft. “John, are you here?”

The merman couldn’t wait any longer. He broke the water and stopped the boat. 

Sherlock recognised him instantly. “John!” He knelt down and reached out to John.

John’s heart was not generally a free and open one, and yet, he had fallen in love with Sherlock. The world beyond that of the mermen was hugely intimidating, but here, at this intersection between worlds, John had found the one that he wanted to share his life with. 

But humans don’t mate with mermen.

John winced. As long as Sherlock never knew the truth about him, everything would be okay. He could make Sherlock happy, and be with him, as long as he never let Sherlock learn the truth about him. If he did, his beloved human would shrink away from him in repulsion, and John would lose the person most important to him in his life.

But being a merman wasn’t all bad. With his abilities, John could express his feelings for Sherlock while ensuring that Sherlock never learned what sort of body John possessed. 

The magical being took Sherlock’s hand, and pulled his still-clothed body under the water, surrounding him with visceral feelings of comfort and love, trying to show him how much John cared about him in water that was now pitch black to all land creatures.

Sherlock reached blindly for John’s face as he was held in place underwater by an unseen force. “John…”

A fire sparked in John’s heart every time Sherlock spoke his new name. Trusting the darkness of the water to obscure Sherlock’s sight, John still had to keep the water around the human heavy enough to keep Sherlock from moving too much and discovering that John wasn’t human. More accurately, he was half man and half dolphin. No, that wasn’t something Sherlock had to know, and besides, he didn’t have to move anyway, because John would take care of him. He approached cautiously and kissed Sherlock’s forehead again.

Euphoria passed over Sherlock’s face.

John couldn’t bear being so close to his love, and yet so far. He held Sherlock’s face as tenderly as possible, discovering with joy that Sherlock’s skin was so similar to most of his own.

Sherlock closed his eyes, and exhaled shakily. “Finally,” he breathed. 

John could have cried with affection. The other man trusted him so much. With all his heartfelt gratitude, John experimentally stroked down Sherlock’s sides, curious to see what humans looked like beneath their clothing. His small hands slipped underneath the drenched shirt and confirmed to himself that their chests were almost the same. It teased John to know that half of him could be good enough for the love of his life. Yet John still explored, looking for more of what they shared in common. He kindly took the ruined shirt off the man and let it float to the surface.

There was an aching longing in Sherlock’s voice. “P-Please, more…”

John glanced up at a straining face when he heard the familiar word. Sherlock wanted more? That made John happier than anything, which was fine, though arousal began to pool in earnest in his abdomen, which was less fine. That would not be welcome here. Ignoring it, John noticed that Sherlock’s legs were squirming with discomfort. Hoping to be helpful, John tugged lightly at the hipline of the trousers and lowered them, revealing loose, tented underpants.

“Ah, yes,” Sherlock groaned, and his head tipped back a little. 

John swallowed. He could make Sherlock feel really good, and show him how much he was drawn to him. He really shouldn’t care so much, but what would Sherlock look like down there? Was his genitalia concealed, like John’s, or was it more open, as it was for other land mammals? John was too afraid of doing the wrong thing to Sherlock, so he kept his touch to safer places, like Sherlock’s legs. Look at those things! John wrapped his palms around one and felt it. How strange and beautiful! And the feet! They hardly resembled John’s fins. Entranced, John pushed the trousers off completely, letting them float away to rise above them, so that he could gently test and gain some comprehension of feet.

There was a shudder in the human, as if he was struggling with some overpowering emotion. “Go on, John,” he rasped, allowing John to explore him. He seemed to enjoy it as well.

John beamed. This was going great! Despite his better judgement, John indulged himself and stroked up each leg, to the inner thighs, which he tested also. He kissed one as he carefully put his hands up on each hip.

Sherlock’s trust in John never waved. He was even smiling. “I l-love you.”

What was that he said? Though the tone was such a soft and reassuring one, John couldn’t piece together the words exactly. Doing his best to think it through, John continued, until the human’s underpants were off and floating to the surface of the water. And, oh! So that was what humans looked like there?

“I love you,” Sherlock repeated softly. 

John still didn’t understand one of the words spoken to him, but the pleading tone in the human’s voice was sugary sweet to his ears. Sherlock was a delight to behold. Indeed, the dark-haired man’s genitalia was unconcealed and, curiously enough, dark-haired itself. Admittedly, John was embarrassed at the boldness of his own actions so far, and yet he couldn’t look away from the arousal that grew fuller as John looked at it. It smelled intoxicating. Could John touch Sherlock? As carefully as possible, he did exactly that, feeling for any slits that would resemble his own and finding none.

“Oh, yes…” Sherlock’s hands managed to hold John’s blond hair as he whimpered.

A hot rush bolted through John’s body, and he could feel himself grow wet and his ridiculous crotch slit want to open up and be touched by this generous human. But no, John couldn’t think about such things. Sherlock would be repulsed if he knew. Sherlock wouldn’t love him if he ever learned what John really was—wait, love? John gasped. Love! Yes! He remembered that word now. That was what Sherlock had said to him. Sherlock said that he loved him! 

“John…”

The merman knew he would always belong to Sherlock. He wished to take care of the clever, kindhearted man. He tried to satisfy his love by taking him in his hand.

“J-John…” His pretty Sherlock whispered harshly, losing his voice and shaking with pleasure.

Again, a hot need coiled inside John, and again, John stubbornly chastised it away. He kept his hands on the human instead of touching himself to the sight of a Sherlock in ecstasy. Determined to give him everything that he could, John held him by the small of his back, and kissed him on the lips.

Sherlock relaxed into the kiss. A minuscule amount of a foreign liquid mixed with the water around John’s southern hand.

That made John feel very happy, and also a little confused. Was Sherlock done so soon? Aware that Sherlock might be overly sensitive now, John went much more slowly than before and looked into darkened eyes for any indication of what he should do next.

Sherlock only grew even harder in his hand, and moaned. “J-John… Please, d-don’t stop, I beg you…” He gasped hard. “I’ve never felt so good…”

John blinked. He understood the words this time, but what was it that Sherlock needed? John felt so lost. He was such an idiot. If only he could pick up this new language more easily, then he would know what it was his beloved human desired. Maybe Sherlock wanted more touches? Or maybe John hadn’t done it right. Well, John could be a very persistent guy in the face of adversity. He eagerly climbed his way down Sherlock’s body, worshipping it with kisses as he went. He tenderly took Sherlock into his mouth, and mewled at the sultry taste. He wanted to gratify Sherlock forever, to always give him what he needed.

“John,” Sherlock cried with a tremble in his voice, and became tensionless in John’s arms.

Clearly John must have been mistaken before, because his throat was now being filled with a torrent of distilled love. The merman swallowed hopelessly, mindlessly thinking to keep some part of Sherlock within him during their inevitable time apart. Then, John caught the half-conscious Sherlock and brought him back to the air. 

Sherlock was murmuring something into his ear, and clutched at John’s shoulders. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me…”

John’s heart was breaking, and he vacillated. He was passionate in seeing to Sherlock’s desires, but if John kept Sherlock with him in the lake, then his shame would eventually be revealed in the light of day. 

In the end, he decided to leave the floating clothes in the rowboat and take Sherlock in his own arms back to shore. 

The human fell soundly asleep with his arms around the sea creature’s neck.

John couldn’t help shedding tears as he swam. Fear of the surface and its wild dwellers be damned, he told himself. He had to stay with Sherlock. He had to find a way to never leave the man’s side, and to be the kind of lover that Sherlock deserved. For Sherlock, he would depart the world of water that he had always known, and become a full human, without language and without security and with nothing at all except for his unconditional love for the only man to ever like him.

It was only a minor nuisance that he had no idea how such a feat could be done.

**

Sherlock opened his drowsy eyes to discover that he was in his bedchamber, alone. It felt wrong. He rose quickly, found that he was already fully dressed, and asked the first person he ran across how he had come home last night.

The maid explained to him that, as was often the case, the prince had arrived in quite an exhausted state the night before. Sherlock huffed. This was the way in which servants told him that one of the guards had found him unconscious by the gate somewhere. 

The rest of her story was more direct. Apparently, some citizen had brought the incapacitated prince straight to the entrance. Though a reward was offered to that citizen, the fellow didn’t offer any reply, and in fact he was still waiting at the entrance for some reason, strangely unwilling to leave.

Sherlock glanced outside through a window. Indeed, his beloved man from the sea was sitting at the gate, far from the stewards of the castle but not very far. He almost seemed to be one of the tourists, wearing simple clothes and not doing anything of significance at all.

He’s home.

Too thrilled to think, the ebullient prince sincerely thanked the maid and dashed out of the castle. He ran across the lawn like a child, helplessly drawn to the one he loved. “John! John!”

The blond man raised his head drearily, and oh, had he been sleeping? How adorable!

Sherlock all but forced his way past the two guards and a gardener to get to John. “Ah! John, my friend! What are you doing out here?” He gracefully helped up a drowsy, yet very hopeful John. “Please, come with me!” Ignoring the existence of everyone else but John, he dragged his dearest through the gate, across the lawn, into the house, and to the nearest abandoned room, which happened to be the welcoming room. Sherlock closed the door and immediately fell upon John with devout kisses. “John, you are home!”

John blushed, though he did return the affectionate gestures.

Sherlock held him by the shoulders and smiled. So, John was a normal man after all. Alternatively, this was a supernatural trick of some kind, hiding John’s magical side behind a mundane one. It didn’t matter much either way, as long as John was here at long last. “I’m so glad you’ve come home with me. I have to show you everything. All those stories that I told you about my life here, I have to show you.”

Regardless of how much of that was actually understood, John was happy.

Sherlock couldn’t believe how cute the man was in person. John was a bit on the short side, which made him even cuter. Sherlock took John’s hand. He would teach his beloved everything about this house, and about himself. Maybe then, John would want to stay?

**

John obediently followed Sherlock’s every direction. Come with me, look at this, have you ever seen anything like this before, careful not to step there! It was nice to be the focus of Sherlock’s attention.

For so long, Sherlock had been the one to come to John’s den, and to trust without guarantee that John would be there for him. That touched John deeply, and made him feel sad the few times when life’s troubles kept him from meeting the prince on the lake. Now, it was John’s turn to come to Sherlock, and to trust his life to him. It was terrifying and also absolutely blissful. 

And then there was the awkwardness of being in an unfamiliar body. Thank goodness he found his sister Harry before the change of the seasons. She was a bit wild at times, especially since she had such powerful magic and no sense of what to do with it, but she had answered John’s pleas. She had cast a strong spell on him. Consequently, John would be a full human for three days. Such strong, uncontrollable magic was never free of price, but thankfully the only thing he had to give up in exchange was his voice for those three days. These terms were hastily accepted because he didn’t have a firm enough command of Sherlock’s language to talk around him anyway.

The really ridiculous part of the spell was that its effects would only be permanent if John received his true love’s kiss in those three days. Otherwise, he would change back to his sea-creature self, and wait a long time for Harry to return from her trip up north with the other mermen for the summer. John had said something sarcastic about a kiss being far too simple a mechanism, to which Harry responded in her own sardonic manner that ‘kiss’ was a euphemism for the actual gesture from his true love that this particular spell required. John was so embarrassed, he would have given anything to be anywhere else at that moment!

“And this is the library,” Sherlock declared, uncaring of any of the other individuals that might be inside. “I would assume there aren’t many books in the lake, but don’t worry. After I teach you the spoken language, I will read to you whichever stories you like, as often as you want.” Tenderly, he picked out a volume and presented it to John. “Countless adventures, John. I would be delighted to share them with you.”

John nodded gratefully. He had three days to get Sherlock to make love to him.

**

Sherlock took John everywhere for the rest of the day. He showed him every room in the house that had no annoying people occupying them, and then he toured the gardens with him. John was thoughtful and patient. He tripped on the unfamiliar ground a few times, but each time, Sherlock caught him, and each time was compelled to catch his own inappropriate moods as well.

When they took breaks for food or water or rest, Sherlock would watch John’s ineptness with common eating utensils with an absurd amount of affection and interest. John was such a mystery, and such a charming person also. 

Yes, the man had seduced him in the lake, but a kind, considerate, magical creature could do that. Sherlock would not dare to attempt such a thing himself. He could not risk taking advantage of John. Sherlock would persevere to give John all the time he needed to adapt to this ordinary, privileged life. Only through patience could Sherlock earn the privilege of taking his sweet magician to bed, if that was John wished as well, and sharing all his love.

**

That night, Sherlock held John under the covers after he had dressed both of them in sleepwear, and they kissed one another for a couple of hours. They cuddled each other endlessly, happy that they finally could.

“I love you,” Sherlock whispered as he nuzzled John. “I love you.”

To have pleased John in more physical ways would have been nice, but the shy twitching of John’s legs as they kept awkwardly sticking together was enough to remind Sherlock that John was not ready, and to not expect anything. Even so, John kept himself close to Sherlock’s body with such great intensity, perhaps trying to make up for all the times when their bodies had been kept apart.

It pulled at every part of Sherlock’s being when John timidly took Sherlock’s hand and placed it on a trembling thigh, silently offering himself to Sherlock. “It is all right,” Sherlock replied with all the gentleness he could muster. “You are beautiful. To simply have you here with me is more than enough, John.”

John must have been so contented to know that he meant so much to Sherlock. He clutched Sherlock more tightly. Sherlock in turn never wanted to let him go.

**

The next day was just as wonderful for Sherlock, except when he went to fetch a book from the library. 

“I’ve heard you brought home a friend,” Mycroft said from the reading chair before Sherlock was fast enough to turn on his heel. Mycroft wasn’t exactly boring, though he was often annoying, and more importantly John was waiting upstairs. The king lowered his book. “A friend of all things, and you haven’t even introduced us yet?”

That was hardly a fair expectation, since Sherlock hadn’t even known that Mycroft was home. Since he had become king, Mycroft had been compelled to spend most of his time away from where they lived. Sherlock hardly saw him anymore. Nonetheless, Sherlock retorted cheekily. “I know you don’t believe in miracles. I was afraid that if you met him, your disbelief would make him disappear.”

Mycroft wasn’t fazed by the comment. “Is it that fellow from the lake you wrote to me about? The magical sea creature who saved your life?”

“His name is John.” Sherlock pretended to survey the books for the one he wanted, even though he already knew his choice. “And I don’t believe I ever said anything about him being a magical sea creature.”

“You merely implied it,” Mycroft said. “By the way, did you know that some dolphins migrate when the seasons change, and no one knows how they manage to do it? Some say they can feel the pull of the northern and southern ends of the world, and are bound by them.”

“Fascinating.”

“Tell me, then, how did you manage to pull your John so far off course?”

Sherlock snatched his book from the shelf and turned away. “Good day, Mycroft.”

“Sherlock,” Mycroft sighed. “I do wish well for both of you. It really is best to have something around here that occupies your time. Oh, but please do tell John not to distract you too much. I wouldn’t want my dear sibling becoming remiss in his own duties.” He raised his book and turned a page.

Intrigued by this absurdly indirect display of kindness, Sherlock stared at Mycroft for a moment. Then he smirked after his odd brother and went upstairs.

The rest of the day was spent gleefully teaching John vocabulary, with the aid of an over-qualified textbook and two very active imaginations.

**

The second night of John’s stay was an eventful one. Sherlock hadn’t meant to try anything, but John clung to him as they readied for sleep. When they finally did get into bed, John shakily took off his loose trousers and dropped them to the floor.

Sherlock didn’t know what to make of that. “Are you too warm, John?”

John swallowed loudly. He lied down beside Sherlock, and implored the prince with bright blue eyes.

“W-What is it?” Helplessly drawn, Sherlock sat upright and leaned over John, watching the shy face quietly beg for him.

Mycroft had been right about one thing: there was definitely a magnetic pull between them. However, as far as Sherlock could see, it was John who had pulled Sherlock off course, from the prince’s migration of boredom onto the strange path of unpredictable love.

Hesitantly, with nervousness written all over his features, John lied flat on his stomach and curled into a submissive position.

“J-John? What are you doing?” Sherlock held the blond man’s back. “Are you all right?”

Two shivering hands seized the headboard, and legs were spread a little.

“Oh, John, John, my lovely John, you don’t have to do that for me.” The prince kissed the side of John’s struggling face. “I want you to think better of me than that. I love you.” He kissed one of the bent arms, and that was when he noticed that his dearest was in need of attention.

His sweet John breathed hard, and hid his fluttering eyes and reddened cheeks in the sheets of the bed.

“I see. I’ve tried not to take advantage of you, but that means I’ve been inconsiderate of you, haven’t I?” Sherlock caressed John’s abdomen in circles until the man stopped shuddering so vehemently. “Don’t worry. Everything is all right. I will make you feel nice, John. Is that what you want?”

There was a shy but still vigorous nod.

Sherlock sneaked one hand underneath the rim of the underwear, and stroked John.

John’s unstable knees parted like a butterfly’s wings, and his back arched as he moaned voicelessly.

Keeping his grip on John strong and sure, Sherlock asked, “How does this feel? Does it feel nice when I touch you?”

John nodded more, and the prince was deeply moved when John’s hips helplessly thrust into Sherlock’s hand, and little toes curled.

“That’s good…” Sherlock steadied those hips into a pace that would better stimulate John. “Because, I feel nice when I touch you, too.”

The magical blond man from the lake desperately let go of the headboard so that he could hold on to Sherlock’s busy wrist underneath his own underpants with both hands. The whimpers were silent, but Sherlock could feel them resonating through John’s body.

They were together now. Nothing would ever separate the prince from his beloved again. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

John bucked, and lost himself with an endless gasp. Sherlock welcomed everything that he had to give, and in no time at all he was embracing him, murmuring kind words and gently milking out the last of John’s tension. 

When Sherlock flipped John onto his back to kiss him, he noticed that the man was crying. “Please, don’t be sad.” He instantly gave in to the urge to wipe those tears away, and brought John’s head closer to rest on his shoulder. “Don’t think I’m disappointed at all, that was wonderful for me. Thank you. And the best part is, we can always do this again, whenever you want.”

That bright a smile, but it didn’t stop John’s tears, so all Sherlock could do was stay with him, and try to kiss him better.

**

The next day was the day when Sherlock would finally learn of John’s secret. In retrospect, it was predictable that such an event should happen in the large bath in the prince’s personal bathroom.

Through a variety of gestures and tugs and points, John had been very insistent that they share a bath together. Sherlock, for his part, liked the idea. It wasn’t necessarily forward, after all. It would just be the two of them washing each other off romantically.

As he gazed upon the sight of a nude John submerged in a bath full of hot water, though, it did occur to him he might be wrong.

Eagerly, John reached out to Sherlock, and jerked his head at the bath, anxiously beckoning him into one very tempting situation. Nonetheless, Sherlock could deny his beloved nothing, and so he joined him. “You look beautiful today, as always, John.”

For some reason, John looked outside at the rising sun in concern. Then, resolutely, John turned away from Sherlock, as he had done last night, and guilt seemed to urge him into a frightened curled position, although less frightened than before.

Sherlock couldn’t believe this. Why did John keep offering himself like this?

Adorably, John actually furrowed his brow at Sherlock for a moment, as if to shout at Sherlock for his hesitation. That was until John remembered his own position. Taking deep breaths for courage, John spread himself once more, anchoring his knees onto a bench in the bath.

“John, what are you trying to tell me?” It was obvious what he was trying to tell him. “We haven’t been intimate very long… Do you really want this?” His voice dropped. “Ah, no, I see. Is it that last night was unsatisfactory?”

John shook his head many times in the negative. He flexed his muscles, begging for Sherlock to take his wordless invitation. 

“Then are you not exhausted from last night? I do not understand, John. Don’t you know that you don’t have to do this?”

Never before had John seemed so frustrated at his inability to speak. It made him try to shout, but nothing came out, which made him even more miserable. He was weeping again.

Sherlock couldn’t bear that. “Please, please, forgive me. I do not understand, but I will do what you want… I want to do what you want.” He had to fight against the resistance of his conscience to get behind John and kiss the back of the perfect creature’s neck. “I am sorry, for making you wait, if this is what you really want.”

John’s loving smile was so wide that its corner could be seen even from this angle. The man’s nod was a blessing on Sherlock’s soul.

“I love you.” Sherlock soothed John’s rear with the hot water and some nearby soap. “We can stop whenever you want. All you have to do is pull away. But I promise, I will not cause you misery any longer.” He slipped a tentative finger into John.

All John did was bend over slightly and silently plead for more.

This was such an outrageous trespass. John had only moved in a few days ago, and already Sherlock was violating John in ways he’d never thought he’d be able to. He crept another finger inside, and waited a while before entering the third. It was amazing how responsive the inside of his John was to his fingers, and he was hugely relieved when John relaxed completely. The fourth finger was added, and it warmed Sherlock’s heart in a surprisingly innocent way to have his hand inside John.

“M-Mm…” John hummed pleasantly, and rocked into the probing fingers.

Sherlock didn’t pause, though his eyes widened. That was the sound of his beloved’s voice. He hadn’t heard it in so long…

“Sher… lock…”

… and he’d never heard it form words, especially his own name. It made Sherlock moan. He was so happy to hear his name from John’s lips. He held John’s hips. “You’re so beautiful, John, you’re so beautiful…” He inched forward and slowly made love to his dear man from the sea. 

“Oh, y-yes…” John’s shudders and whimpers were unfairly captivating.

“Good heavens, John…” Sherlock forced himself to stay still and wait for John to adjust. It felt lovely to be inside of John’s sensitive core. “You feel so good…” He closed his eyes and caressed his lover’s hair. “I love you…”

“Oh! No, no, no! Not h-here, not now!”

“No?” Alarmed, Sherlock opened his eyes, and gasped.

Poor John was trying to hide his humiliation, but he couldn’t hide his fusing legs. No, they weren’t legs, it was a long tail with flippers. John burst out into tears and mindless babbling. “Sherlock, I’m so sorry, this is bad, shit, shit! Why is the spell failing? I’m so sorry, Sherlock!”

Sherlock was too busy obsessing over how he was within a merman, his merman. He glanced down to see that the man’s butt had flattened and greyed to become the top of the tail. The opening in the crevice of John’s human trunk that Sherlock was filling had been replaced by a simple vertical slit. “John…?”

“D-Damn it! Harry always screws these things up! Shit, I’m so sorry, I love you, Sherlock, I love you with all my heart! I’m sorry, this must be disgusting to you, I tried so hard to hide it from you, Sherlock, I’m really sorry, I love you so much, I’ll always love you!” 

What ensued was Sherlock’s most stupefied blink ever. “J-John… I never knew you could be so eloquent…” He laid a tender hand on the fascinating tail, and why hadn’t he noticed until now that John’s body was completely hairless? John was smooth and flawless. Sherlock’s insipid curiosity was raging at the thought of what had happened to the other side of John. The prince kept his touch on the tail as he reached around and felt around the crotch.

John moaned electrically. “S-Sherlock?”

“Like I said before,” Sherlock murmured seductively, his voice rich with arousal, “I’ll always love you, too.” His fingers found only another vertical slit, in John’s groin. It was temptingly soft, so Sherlock carefully dipped his fingers in and caressed its edges.

“S-Shit!” John cried out, and recoiled further along Sherlock’s body, deepening the contact between them. “That feels so good…”

The prince burned with a consuming passion. He felt the small cavern of the slit grow wetter as he increased the pressure of his touches.

“Oh!” The wonderful man convulsed sharply, and panted for air. “Damn it…”

Sherlock was filled with wonder as something slick and hard moved through his fingers from the crotch slit. It was impossible how much this turned him on. He fondled the treasure as it crept out of its shelter. “That’s r-right, come out, don’t be shy.”

John struggled to control himself. “S-Sherlock…” 

“It’s all right. Don’t be ashamed, John. You’re so beautiful…” Sherlock finally allowed himself to steadily and sweetly make love to John. The sounds that escaped the merman were dark and gorgeous.

In no time at all, John’s apologies and cursing degenerated into incoherent sobs and moans of pleasure. Sherlock was proud to be the one to soothe the spirit of such a magical creature. Their lives were irrevocably intertwined, and what else could have brought them together except for a timeless bond so powerful that it overpowered the magnetic pull of the earth itself and led John astray to him? 

“Bind me to you, pull me to you, always,” Sherlock begged, and fell even more hopelessly in love when John barely managed to ask for the same from his prince.

**

John was the luckiest creature in the world. He wasn’t ashamed anymore, though he couldn’t resist still being shy about his mermaid form sometimes.

He and his sweetheart were living together now, permanently. His amazingly accepting Sherlock had even offered to go back to the lake with John, and then further into the sea, where John might be more comfortable and they could live out their days in the calm water. Indeed, unless John was to stay in the bath indefinitely, there was no other obvious solution for them to remain together.

That was until Sherlock reluctantly approached Mycroft with news of these very unexpected plans. It had surprised both Sherlock and John when Mycroft immediately responded by having a man-made river planned for development. The river would connect the castle with the lake, and since the lake spilled over to the ocean, it would enable John to travel everywhere with ease. Mycroft’s explanation for this construction was that such a river would be a beneficial investment into much-needed infrastructure. 

Sherlock’s sarcastic reply was that Mycroft simply didn’t want to be left to his solitude. Mycroft gave no comment on this.

For the weeks before the river was completed, though, John had to stay in a temporary pool installed in the private back garden. Only the king, the prince, and the most trusted housekeepers had access to it. Sherlock visited him endlessly—often at night—and Mycroft came to check on him a few times as well, if only because he was curious to see John or to watch John hum his way around the pool.

All in all, John was happy that Harry’s spell had not worked the way he’d expected. In fact, he soon discovered that even though he had to temporarily pay the cost of his voice, the spell had generously repaid him with the gift of a working comprehension of all language ever spoken to him. Of course, that was still a limited vocabulary, and so Sherlock kept reading to him and teaching him about the great discoveries and philosophies garnered by humanity.

One day, when Mycroft stopped by to visit him, he leaned on his king’s sceptre—an act that was purely for show—and asked idly, “How ever did my brother pull you off course?”

John crossed his arms on the edge of the pool and shrugged. “I couldn’t say. I wasn’t really with the pack to begin with, but I still thought I was bound south for the winter when I swam into the lake, and I saw Sherlock there, and… I suppose it was random chance.”

“Ah,” Mycroft nodded, with disappointment. “And here I was hoping for something clever, like a magnet lure. I’ve heard that magnets work better in the ocean.”

“Yeah, um…” John felt a little bad for his answer, so he tried to cheer the king up with a grin. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure once you make that river, you’ll pull in a magical creature of your own. And you’ll do it in some clever way.”

Mycroft was doubtful. “And what makes you think I want to pull in a magical creature?”

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to say you’d want that. But, the river could be a good place to find company, if you wanted to do that,” John said, and then lightened his tone. “Oh and speaking of company, I should warn you. The temperature is really quite nice here, so if you do build a big river, be careful. A dragon or two might come to lay eggs in it.”

The distinctly unbelieving frown on Mycroft’s face made John laugh.

End.


End file.
